<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Dysregulated and Unmedicated by Fandoms_ruined_me123</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914018">Dysregulated and Unmedicated</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_ruined_me123/pseuds/Fandoms_ruined_me123'>Fandoms_ruined_me123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Depressed Tim Drake, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Medication, Mental Breakdown, Tim Drake-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:40:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_ruined_me123/pseuds/Fandoms_ruined_me123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim should have known that this was coming. He knew for months before that coming up on the anniversary he was going to crash. But while he had prepared for that he had never expected it would be this bad. On day one, he was slightly concerned for himself. But by day seven he just wanted to melt into his sheets. Yet how is he supposed to reach out for help if there's no one around to hear his cries. </p><p>Whumptober 2020 prompt 12: Broken down</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dysregulated and Unmedicated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First off, this story has a pretty big focus on going off medication. If it is prescribed to you please take it. Going off your medication can have disastrous consequences. But I was off my medication and I thought I'd write a story about it because I get very inspired to write but it only lasts for about three hours. Anyways that is very important for me to say and I just feel like I have to put a disclaimer out there. </p><p>And as always thank you to my amazing beta Elise, who is the human embodiment of what happens when you feed children lucky charms after midnight</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone had warning signs. Everyone has those red flags that go off inside their head to alert them that things are going downhill and going downhill quickly. Even if anyone else can see it, everyone has something that tips them off. For some, the warning might be a weight on their chest when they think of things they need to accomplish. Or the nagging voice that tells them they can always just do it later. Some notice the red flags right away, for others it can take some time. The cause can change from person to person, from situation to situation. The warnings could have been caused by an event or memory, something little or big. Regardless of the cause, they often signal the same trajectory, completely and utterly falling apart. When one individual finally notices them it can go one of two days. They can notice and heed the warnings. They could take a step back and recognize what was going on then try to fight against the voice and maybe even reach out of friends or family for support. Or they can ignore them. They could see the flags right in front of them, only to move around them. Instead, they choose to let go and give in completely to the thoughts. The choice is all theirs.</p><p>	Tim knew he needed help. The warning signs were loud and clear, still he pushed them aside. He knew something was wrong but he just couldn't muster up the strength to fight against himself. He knew he needed help every time he ran his tongue across his teeth. The action made him cringe every time as he could feel the plaque building up but he still couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He had considered changing during the first three days, but five days in it didn’t even cross his mind. His hair felt limp and it clung together using his own sweat and grease as an adhesive. He knew he needed help every time he thought about the bright orange pill bottle sitting in the dark, hidden out of sign inside the bathroom cabinet. It had just slipped his mind the first few days but after that, he just couldn’t bring himself to take them. When the thought crossed his mind his breathing began to slow as a heavy weight pinned him down. Even the simple action seemed too hard, everything seemed too hard. So he didn’t take them.</p><p>	Tim should have known this was coming. He knew he didn’t handle anniversaries well, so why should this time have gone any differently? He knew he should have reached out to people beforehand. He should have made plans so that he would be forced out of his room. Or, if he couldn't bring himself to go, then at least someone would come looking for him. But no one was coming. He didn't blame anyone, they were all busy with their own things after all. Bruce was on a mission off-world and Dick was over in Bludhaven. Steph and Cass had teamed up to take down a new and upcoming, yet extremely violent, gang down. Duke had been spending more time with his parents and when he came home from his friend's house afterward he could be drained. He was probably too busy with his own demons to help Tim fight off his own. Even Alfred, who had always helped him before, had his hands full as he attempted to help Damian get situated into school for the first time.</p><p>	Tim would rather suffer in silence than force his problems onto the others, they already had their own problems. Although that didn't stop him from wishing. A resentful part of him wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and make sure they saw him. But after those thoughts had passed he always ended up feeling worse. It wasn't their job to watch over him, after all. It wasn't fair of him to expect them to notice that he wasn't leaving his room. But no matter how often he told himself that, he still longed for someone to help. He wanted someone to help, but that was also his worst nightmare. He was raised to be self-sufficient and while he wanted help, it was also the last thing he wanted.</p><p>	He only left his room to grab the dinner that Alfred would prepare. With so many of them scattered Alfred hadn’t had them sit down to eat together in a week. The dishes began to pile up on his desk but it didn't seem to phase him. All Alfred saw of him was when he grabbed his food. He couldn’t feel his concerned eyes following him out of the room, but still he never pursued him. All Alfred saw were the full meals going up to his room, he knew nothing about how half of them would be scraped off the plate only to be flushed away. Tim just hadn’t been hungry for days, and he didn’t want the foot to sit rotting in his room. He took the meal out of obligation, he would be perfectly content to stay up in his room and live off of the granola bars and bland but healthy packaged food he had stored away in a drawer. </p><p>	His workload built up by the hour. From case files to WE paperwork, there seemed to be fifty different things that all required his attention. Each one was more urgent than the last. His normal strategy of throwing himself into work to avoid the painful thoughts and memories had fallen in pieces around him. It took him hours to complete anything. The second he would pull something up to work on his mind seemed to go blank. He forced himself to read and reread everything multiple times before any bit of information broke its way through the fog in his head. </p><p>	Tim focused on the work that had approached or passed its deadline. He only had a day of break before people started asking questions. All wondering where their information was, so begrudgingly he obliged, he poured out the rest of his energy into helping the others. With the information on the gang for Steph, he lost the energy to brush his hair. For every hour he spent on the casework Bruce had left behind, there was another hour where he would forget to drink water, only to remember hours later when his head pounded something fierce. With every email he made to the board, he watched as the piles of papers, dishes, and garbage began to pile up on the floor.</p><p>	Everyone else had been pulling extra hours on patrol since Bruce had left so it was only fair that he would do his part. He had offered to take up the paperwork they didn’t have time to do and while everyone had thought it was odd they agreed, taking over his patrol route as he took over their work. He had known in advance he would be in no shape to help them but still he had to do his part. With every message that reminded him of something else he had to complete, it only reinforced the idea that had attached itself to the back of his brain for days. The idea that he was only kept around to help the others.</p><p>	With every day that passed, it became less of an idea and more of a fact, as everyone around him unknowingly put it into reality. It was the only possibility that Tim was absolutely sure about that. In every situation where he was allowed to remain with anyone he had ever cared about, there was one constant. And that was him keeping his head down and getting his work done. When he was Robin he kept his head down and got his work done, when he was fired as Robin he had done the opposite. He couldn’t help but wonder if only he had kept his head down more around his parents things would have gone differently, but he quickly shoved that thought away the second it came. All other possibilities were clouded out and deemed impossible.</p><p>	So even as his clothes became wrinkled, stained, and his emotions dysregulated, he continued to work. He continued to fight for his place in the family and continued to prove his worth. The work and emails became piled higher than he could control as he attempted to complete as many as he could. His phone was full of people demanding answers to questions. Full of people who wanted answers to questions he hadn’t even looked at yet. Each message became buried within minutes. </p><p>	On day six without his medication, Tim threw his phone across the room. He watched as it collided with the hall before it went crashing down to the floor. Shards of glass fell around the shattered phone but he made no attempt to even look at it. It was a new article that set him over the edge. The notification had caused him to look down briefly, expecting another text. But what he hadn’t expected was an article. His eyes became transfixed on his phone as he slowly opened the article and began to read. The Gotham Gazette has analyzed how Drake Industries had performed after the owner's tragic deaths, after his parents' deaths. It had come out right on the anniversary of Janet's death, the date no one else seemed to remember. The next thing he knew the phone was on the floor in pieces. On day six he stopped leaving his room.</p><p> </p><p>	The next day had passed in a blur. He couldn’t bring himself to do much more than just sit there. Alfred has brought him food but he could only pick at it. Ripping the toast into small pieces as he moved it apathetically around the plate. He stayed by Tim’s side for an hour despite his pleas to be left alone. Eventually he turned away, his eyes closed as he faced away from the older man who looked upon with worry. Even as he pretended to sleep Tim knew that he didn’t have Alfred fooled but he was grateful for when he finally left. His eyes focused on the wall as he could feel his eyes glazed over. The weighted blanket that Bruce had gotten him pulled up and around his shoulder as it covered his entire body. A pathetic replacement for a hug, but an attempt nonetheless. </p><p>	“Tim?” He heard the window slide open as he glanced over. Peering out of his bed with weary eyes.</p><p>	“Conner? What are you doing here?” Tim asked as he rubbed his eyes. He suddenly became conscious of the disastrous state of his room as his boyfriend stood by the window. His wide eyes took in every aspect of the room before they settled back on him.</p><p>	“Tim I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days,” Conner said softly as he walked towards Tim. Being careful as to avoid the papers carelessly thrown around the room. “Cassie's been texting me to see if I had heard from you, and Bart called me yesterday crying because he was so worried. And I was worried, you’ve never gone offline like this before,”</p><p>	“Yeah, I know I haven’t kept up on my work,” Tim said bitterly as he wished he could sink into the bed and disappear. “But I’m working on it,”</p><p>	“That's,” Conner began as he peered around the blankets with concern. He made eye contact with Tim for only a second before he turned his head into the pillow. “That’s not why. I know about the anniversary and we wanted to help, I wanted to help,”</p><p>	“If you really wanted to help then why did you wait so long?” Tim asked as he sat up, blankets fell off him as he turned to face Conner.</p><p>	“Well we had talked about space before and you are in Gotham. I thought I’d wait a little while before-”</p><p>	“Then you had the right idea,” Tim said coldly as he pushed himself up against the headboard. The blankets pooled around his feet. “I just need some space ok!”</p><p>	“I know you think you need space but what has some space done to help?” Conner asked as he gestured around the room. “You say you need some space but you don’t. You’re just scared about what would happen if you asked for help,”</p><p>	“What would happen if I did? It’s not like anyone is here to help. Everyone is off doing things to leave me here alone!” He cried out as a tear fell down his face. “They all left and they don’t even notice I’m gone until they need something.”</p><p>	“Tim there are people out there who care. Me, Cassie, Bart we all want to help,”</p><p>	“But there’s no one here to help. There's no one in the manor who seems to have time for me. They are busy, too busy to check to see if I’ve done the basic things that everyone else can do for some reason,”</p><p>	“Tim,” Conner said cautiously as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “How long have you been off your meds?”</p><p>	“What? Just because I’m upset all of a sudden I’m off my meds? Because taking them is something so basic that everyone else can do but you think that I can’t? I don’t need anyone to come talk down to me or treat me like I’m made of glass,” Tim argued before he eventually deflated. His breaths became short and rapid as he refused to look Conner in the eyes. His shoulders curled around himself as he fully expected Conner to lash out in response. </p><p>	“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I understand if you want to leave. I understand if you want to break up. I’m really sorry, I messed up. I’m sorry,”</p><p>	“Woah that escalated,” Conner moved slightly forward. His hands in front of him as he kept his movements slow and predictable. “I’m not going anywhere ok? Being mad is ok. You can be mad,”</p><p>	“No, lI yelled at you that's not ok,”</p><p>	“It’s alright, I understand,” He affirmed. “How long have you been off your meds?”</p><p>	“Seven days,” Tim whispered as he tensed up. Fully ready for the lecture he would always receive from Bruce.</p><p>	“Seven days!” Conner exclaimed before he took a deep breath. Slowly he stood and walked towards the bathroom as Tim watched wearily. </p><p>	“I’m sorry it’s just hard sometimes,” He said quietly as Conner returned with the bottle and glass of water in hand. </p><p>	“It’s alright. You know you can always call Alfred or even me on days like this right?”Conner asked as Tim opened the bottle. He tipped his head back as he felt the small chalky pills bounced around in his mouth before he took a sip of water and brought his head back down to swallow. </p><p>	“I just don’t want people to talk down to me or treat me like I’m broken.”</p><p>	“How about this,” Conner started as he sat down next to Tim. The sudden dip in the mattress caused Tim to roll slightly into his side, but he made no attempt to move. “If it ever gets to be too much come get me ok? We can text or call for a little bit. I could always even come over if it’s ok with Bruce. We could go somewhere or just stay at the manor.”</p><p>	“I just don’t want to be a bother.”</p><p>	“You’ll never be a bother,” Conner said, smiling as he ran a hand through Tims unkempt hair. They sat in silence for a moment before Tim pushed himself up onto his elbows. </p><p>	“I have a lot of work to do.” He said, sighing as he moved to leave the bed.</p><p>“No,” Conner placed an arm across Tim’s chest as he gently pulled him back to the bed before he laid his head across Tim’s chest.</p><p>“What do you mean no?”</p><p> </p><p>“No work, you can do that later, and I’m sure the others would gladly help out.”</p><p>“But there is-”</p><p> “Nope,” Conner interrupted a small smile on his face. “No work, I’m hugging you now,”</p><p>“You’ve been hanging around Bart too much.” Tim mocked, his voice devoid of the bitterness that seemed to be present only a moment before as he smiled softly. </p><p>“You know you don’t have to worry too much about Bruce right?” Tim said after a moment. “In your plans, you added in waiting for his approval. You don’t need to do that,”</p><p>“I appreciate that,” Conner started, raising his head to look up at Tim. “But pissing off my boyfriend's dad after only dating him for two months isn’t a good idea. Especially not if he has a ton of kryptonite. Hell, I don’t even go into Gotham without him saying it’s ok,”</p><p>“Wait then how did you come today?”</p><p>“Alfred. He said that there was something wrong and I needed to come quick so I did,”</p><p>“Does Clark know where you are?” Tim asked as he shifted slightly, which caused Conner to frown.</p><p>“Clark can wait,” Tim laughed quietly before he smiled. He looked over at Conner and wrapped his arms around him. Maybe the facts he had convinced himself were true needed a bit more evidence to support them. He was almost a little disappointed in himself at how easily his logic fell apart under scrutiny. Although sometimes it is better to be wrong.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>